Three A.M. (24 page)

I leaned closer to the dead man and gently closed his eyes. He couldn’t have been a day over twenty-one. Just another little soldier boy they handed a gun. Well, it was done now. I steeled my nerves and tried to stop thinking as I took the smokes from his hand and placed one in my mouth. I sucked on it unlit and rose, returning to the back of the vehicle. I reached in and dragged out the first soldier by his boots, being careful not to look at his face. No more remorse, no more sentiment. The second soldier’s head was closer to the door, so I hooked my arms under his shoulders and pulled him out to lie facedown beside his comrade.

Then I placed one hand on the chest of the civilian I’d euthanized and lifted him a bit to take the pressure off his harness. I clicked it open and let his body drop down across my shoulders. He weighed no more than 120-some pounds. Had bones like a bird. Him I laid faceup. There were five rifles strapped against the far wall of the truck and numerous clips of ammunition below them. All of this I took and threw into the back of Rebecca’s truck.

There was blood and bits of human body all over the front cabin, and I decided not to bother searching through it. I could see through the shattered windshield that there were no weapons up front with the driver and passenger. Five unloaded rifles for five soldiers. These guys hadn’t been looking for a fight. Which led me to believe that they had no idea I would be there with Rebecca Ayers.

My mind racing, I jogged back around the truck and began rifling through the pockets of the little blazer-wearing man. In one of the two larger pockets of his jacket, I found an old, yellowed envelope. Folding it open, I pulled out several photographs. One was of the little man with Samuel Ayers. Two of them were photos of Ayers with Becca and Fallon when they were kids. The last one was a picture of a little girl who had to be Becca with both her parents smiling from atop a tall brown horse. One of her front teeth was missing. A sinking feeling grew in the pit of my stomach. I stuffed the pictures back into the envelope and pocketed them and continued to search the man. Pens. A notepad. A handkerchief … and then I found it.

Macabre relief washed over me. In his inside jacket pocket, the little man had a spring-loaded syringe filled with a pale, cloudy liquid. I held the needle close to my nose and sniffed at it. It smelled faintly of sweet almonds. Cyanide. He was on his way to eliminate Rebecca.

There was no making her safer by putting distance between us. Selfishly, my first reaction was brief elation. As I quickly searched the other bodies and the wrecked truck—finding little of use except cigarettes—my happiness turned steadily into a profound dread. If they were going to kill her with or without me, they were going to kill Fallon. They’d probably go after poor old Eddie and the phlegmatic, resigned Salk. Heller. I hoped those guys wouldn’t be sucked into all of this, but there didn’t seem much I could do for them now.

*   *   *

She was sitting on the front steps when I pulled up. I sat in the truck’s cab for a minute, watching her. Her eyes were cast downward. She had put on blue jeans and an olive green sweater, and her hair was pulled back into a ponytail. Eventually she looked up, and I killed the engine and got out of the truck.

“Were they all dead?” she asked quietly.

“Yes.”

“I heard shooting.”

“I…” Looking away, I whispered, “I was just being sure.”

“Who was it?”

“Soldiers.”

“Just soldiers?” Her eyes searched mine, saw the blood on my face.

“There was someone else too. Listen, we need to get moving. I’ll tell you about it on the road.”

“Where are we going?” she asked, standing up.

“I have no idea. That’s going to be your department. Somewhere safe.” I walked past her and entered the house.

She followed me and put a hand on my arm, turning me to face her. “So it’s not safe here anymore?”

“No. It’s not safe here. I’m sorry.”

She dropped her hand and looked around the foyer sadly, her eyes sliding past photographs, a painting, an old wooden chest. “Okay, well … I packed clothes for wherever we go.”

“How far is it to the next city? To anywhere where there are lots of people?”

“Almost two hundred miles. Maybe a bit less, I guess. There are only two intact roads, though.”

“Dammit.” I sat down on the stairs and massaged my eyes with the heels of each hand. “That’s no good, then.”

“Who else was in the truck?”

“Another man. A civilian. We need to figure out where we’re going. There are still a few hours of daylight, and if they send helicopters—which they will—we’re fucked. We don’t have much time.”

“Why wouldn’t they have just done that in the first place?”

“They don’t know I’m here, I guess. That I’m alive. Let’s load up. Do you have extra gas tanks?”

She nodded. “We have lots of them. They ration how often you can get fuel, so Dad always took lots of containers to fill.”

We were going to need to drive hard and fast. Away from the city, but beyond that I had no idea. We had to chance it off road. One checkpoint and we’d be done, and they’d be watching the roads even if there weren’t any official checkpoints. The red pickup could be spotted for miles from the air. I entered the kitchen, drank water from the tap, and wiped at my face, trying to get the flecks of blood off.

“Dad always used to take us camping. The place is only about an hour away. Maybe we could go there?” She stood just outside the kitchen in the hallway, looking at the wall of pictures.

“That’s a good idea.” I smiled at her.

She showed me where the jerry cans full of gasoline were tucked away under the porch among random tools scattered about—shovels, a hammer and pick. The ground beneath the stairs had been recently turned. It looked as though someone had been digging for something. I tried to shrug it off and loaded several cans of gas into the truck. She had set our packed duffels on the porch, and I stuck them on the bench behind the two front seats.

Rebecca came outside with a canvas bag stuffed with all the food she could find. A bit of pasta and rice, tomatoes, some dried fruit, random cans. It would do for a while. It would have to, at any rate. She loaded the food into the truck and then took a few steps back toward the house. Her face was placid, but her eyes were pained as she stood in the middle of the bright green yard looking up at her home.

“I’ll never see it again, will I?”

“You might. I hope you do.” I came up to stand next to her and studied the side of her face. The sun, just beginning its afternoon descent, highlighted the line of her nose, the pout of her lips. She wore a gentle golden halo around her face. Memories must have been swirling through her mind. Her shoulders rose and fell, and her eyes gently closed.

“Were you digging for something under the porch recently?” I asked as quietly as I could. She made no reply, her eyes looking a thousand miles away.

Finally, meekly, she asked, “What?”

“Nothing. Take your time,” I whispered, walking toward the pickup. Moles or whatever. I was growing more restless by the second, but I couldn’t bring myself to rush her. I leaned on the side of the truck bed and took stock of our supplies. Five rifles back here and one in the cab. Enough fuel for a few days of driving. Food for maybe a week if we could augment it with something. A mix of checkered and plaid woolen blankets. Clothing.

I thought to run inside and grab a few bottles of liquor, but there was no way I was going to push past this heartsick girl for booze.
Sorry about your life being ripped to shreds, sweetheart. Take your last look at childhood as I come down the porch steps with a few bottles of Daddy’s cough medicine.

I reached into my pocket to grab a smoke. Just then, Rebecca turned and walked to me with quick, confident steps. I let go of the cigarette pack as she stopped before me.

“Okay if I drive?”

“Sure.” I handed her the keys. “I’m a bit out of practice.”

“I noticed. I was watching you head down there.” She smiled, walking around to the driver’s side.

“Hey, a decade and a half without getting behind the wheel … I thought I was pretty good.”

I climbed into the passenger seat, pulling off my coat and settling it on the seat between us. One of the rifles sat there too, close at hand. She turned the key, and the engine rumbled to life. The big, heavy tires tossed gravel about the yard as Rebecca stomped down on the gas. We flew down the driveway at over forty miles an hour. I guess she wanted to get the leaving over with fast. I couldn’t blame her. It was easier just to head out into the world one day and realize later that you would never go home, that things were to be eternally different.

Every few minutes, she dabbed at her eyes with the sleeve of her dark green sweater. I almost started talking a few times, but she seemed to bristle whenever I took in breath to do so. I gave up and leaned my head against the window glass, watching the trees and fields roll by. The shadows were growing longer. The sky had turned from the deep azure of day to a lighter, powder blue. I could see a sliver of the moon hanging ashen gray in the afternoon sky, waiting silently for the sun to recede.

We crested a small hill, and miles off to the west was the dam. The highway was heading roughly toward it. I grew nervous, thinking pictures of our faces had been spread out across the land. I was about to tell Rebecca but held my tongue as we drew ever closer to the massive dam. There were no buildings surrounding it. There was no infrastructure to speak of at all, really, save for the mighty gray edifice itself. The same strange unease I’d felt from the air washed over me again. The steep hills on either side of the dam looked so strange, the rest of the land so familiar. I suppressed a thought as it began to form.

The highway drew near and then ran parallel with the river formed at the dam’s base. I craned my neck back between the seats to look at the thing. There was one small tower near the center and a service road running up to it from the highway. Four mighty waterfalls poured forth from its walls in utter isolation. It was as if some unseen hand had ordained this gigantic creation and then withdrawn to leave it forever churning out power for a dead and forgotten people.

“Kirk’s dam,” I muttered.

“He told you about that, huh?”

“All about it. Sounded like a father describing his valedictorian son.”

She nodded, a rueful smile on her lips. I turned back to look at his scion once more and then faced the highway again. I had no idea how far we were going, but I hoped we got off this road soon. It was the only trace of human life for as far as the eye could see: a vast expanse of pristine, rolling hills bisected by this perfectly maintained two-lane strip of concrete. The rhythm of the truck’s wheels rolling across the seams in the road gradually began to sedate me. My eyelids grew heavy, and soon the gentle beat of the highway was all I was aware of.

*   *   *

Sand beneath my toes. So odd—it didn’t feel like sand … more like a carpet or even a bolt of silk. But there it was, milk white before the blue green sea. No sun or sky to speak of: all was pale beige and cream above the placid water. I was standing and then I was walking toward the water but I never got to the water. I knew she was behind me. In her red dress. I wanted to turn and see her, but when I did she was behind a wooden fence between the sea and the forest.

Her pale blue eyes peered over the fence at me and I could see her delicate feet gliding from side to side below the fence. Then the red dress slipped around her feet and I was walking toward her and her eyes were closed. I walked around and around the fence but it never ceased and she was there with her eyes closed and then she was not there and there was no beach and no fence and only a forest. I was not in the forest though I was not on the beach and I could see nothing but the trees and then from the trees came Kirk, walking slowly toward me. His face was tan and healthy and smiling, but his suit was torn and there was blood on his shirt.

He stopped just outside the trees and, still smiling, asked if I would join him. I walked to him and he turned and went back into the forest and then I was in the forest and he was gone and I was frightened then and growing more so by the second, panicked, running tree to tree and ever darker and “Kirk!” and running, seeking, “Dad! Father!” finding no one, screaming little child with hot tears blinding everything and then the trees parted and there was Heller sitting on the ground with knees drawn up to his naked chest and face cast downward and flesh gray and I, little child, ran up to him and he looked at me through watery eyes and tried to smile through golden teeth and from his smile came notes and chords and it was wondrous and I was not frightened and I was not a child but he was growing faint and harder to see as mist seeped down from the treetops and crept along the forest floor and Heller turned and crawled away and I ran to follow but I could not follow and the notes and music in the forest surged and clawed their way into my mind and then …

*   *   *

… I awoke with a start, gasping and clinching my fists. Rushing air and colors. I coughed and shook my head to clear it. Okay. I was in the truck. With Rebecca. It was nearly dusk now. We were on a smaller road.

“Are you okay?” she asked with concern.

“Yeah…” I muttered, still half asleep and disoriented. Was I still—? “What is … music? What music is this?” As I came to, I realized that it was Chopin bridging the gap between my dream and the waking world.

“I don’t know. I found it in your jacket.”

“It’s okay.” I leaned back, catching my breath and trying to slow my heart rate. “It’s Chopin.”

“I didn’t figure you for a classical kind of guy.” She smiled.

“Just him. Just this one tape, really, to be honest.” I took in a breath to add,
and Beethoven
, but exhaled without speaking. I’d keep that for me.

“It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah,” I said, turning away and taking in a quavering breath. Tears welled up in my eyes, and I fought to keep them in. One ran down my cheek, and I nonchalantly wiped it away. She saw, though. For a moment I thought she would let it pass, but then she reached out and began to rub the back of my neck.